What's This World Coming To?
by silvershard
Summary: Nel contemplates life, love, and the contents of the universe. No, really. Okay, fine, maybe not.


I don't own Star Ocean. Well, I do have the game, and it kicks serious ass. But that's about it.

* * *

She walked into the tavern, a dark look gracing her features as she ordered the strongest drink she could think of - this, perhaps, was not a night to ask this particular lady anything involving "drink," "date," or "chick." Hot, maybe... but "chick?" That, she could live without - and the unfortunate soul who decided she could not would probably leave the tavern that night sans his pride (and possibly quite a bit of flesh and blood). The thundercloud could almost be seen over her head - she was in poor spirits, this one.  
  
All right, Nel was sulking. Not that anyone would say it to her face.  
  
The Elcoorian war maiden had encountered a problem previously unknown to her -  
  
She had never fallen in love. Until now.  
  
What the hell am I supposed to do now? Not only is he younger than me, but he's not even from this world! There seems to be this resounding echo whenever I ask myself about my future plans - maybe because I can't really see the future well without him.  
  
Did I just admit that?  
  
There's just... something about him. Something about the way his hair falls over his eyes when he's tired, leaning against his blade warily, that makes me want to brush it away and soothe his hurts. And the fury with which he battles - even I have to admit that I've rapidly gained much respect for him, even though he secretly admitted he'd never fought before he met me. And the way he constantly volunteers for the most ungodly tasks - I can't imagine why he would ever consistently volunteer for the second shift of watch, splitting his sleep night after night, those beautiful eyes sweeping the perimeter...  
  
What the hell is wrong with me? I've never sat in a darkened tavern lamenting a starstruck love before. I've never -been- in love before. But I can't stop -thinking- about him - I can't stop myself from hiding a tiny tremor that rolls languidly down my spine at every accidental touch, every time he lays his hand against my shoulder in concern.  
  
And the way he treats others...  
  
I have never seen such a level of respect from someone as young as he. I have never met another young man who has actually stopped to open doors, pull out chairs, and pet stray animals every time I turn around. He's so... innocent and yet, at the same time, unearthly and deadly. I can feel the soft soil underneath my feet when I stand in the moonlight, thinking, and yet I cannot feel the reality of it, as every time I contemplate what my reality is, memories of his smile sweep the earth out from under me.  
  
The bartender had kept an eye out for the beautiful woman in the corner - not only did she look terribly sad, but it would be hideous for business if someone drunkenly approached her for a one-night stand and she levelled the place for his troubles. It was quite obvious that she'd never entered a tavern for any other purpose than a good meal, seeing as she'd spent the last three hours sipping on the same drink and still looked a little worse for ware.  
  
It was also sheer curiosity that kept his gaze sweeping back to her little corner, lit only by stray firelight from the stone hearth - after storming into his beloved tavern looking ready to, ah, "liberate" the world of ten dragons with nothing but her fists, it was a damn good idea to keep the rowdier customers the hell away.  
  
And she was damn easy on the eyes, not to mention.  
  
"You want somethin' to eat, m'lady?"  
  
A distraction! And damn good bread, I might add. But I really shouldn't...  
  
Ooh. I think I need to come back for some more of these drinks later on, if I ever decide to get up the courage to confront him. Liquid bravery...  
  
Anyway.  
  
Now that I think about it, what's with that blue-haired vixen that popped out of the middle of nowhere? She's been spending an awful lot of time "speaking" with Fayt.  
  
Bitch.  
  
And it's not even like I have any claim on him whatsoever - I spend most of my time ridiculing that inane lump Cliff, completely ignoring any opportunity for advances that I could have made. I can stare the enemy in the eyes as he attempts to spill my life against the cold earth, leaving me to rot in the snow, and laugh in his face, but I can't tell a damn 19 year old boy that I've fallen for him.  
  
What's the world coming to?  
  
As he wiped away the remnants of a "celebration" for...uh... killing something, getting a woman, who the hell knows or cares what it was for? - he contemplated the morality of giving the woman a few more drinks. She obviously needed the comfort of a good buzz - but was it really right of him to give her drinks just to see if he could flirt with her?  
  
An opportunity, if nothing else.  
  
"This one's on the house."  
  
This is pretty good stuff, you know.  
  
Good enough that I'm actually talking to myself, though I'm pretty sure that it isn't out loud.  
  
... Right?  
  
The point is, however, that I've become entirely smitten with a boy from another world. Aren't I supposed to be above this kind of thing? Aren't I supposed to be this great war maiden, representative of the Queen and Apris, and all of those other empty titles that I've seemingly misplaced at the moment - not that it matters.  
  
I'm supposed to be strong and confident in myself and my abilities - graceful and needing nothing else but my blade and the open road. I'm not SUPPOSED to fall in love.  
  
... Now that I think about it, who the hell made up those rules? Who has once said that I can't find a companion, someone to watch my back during long nights, guarding who-cares-what? Who said that I have to spend my life alone, a chaste chapel girl that will never know what it's like to wake up in the warmth and security of another's embrace?  
  
Who the fuck decided what my life can be for me?  
  
The way she was muttering to herself, the bartender really felt quite bad about the last two drinks. She -is- quite the petite girl, after all... and she has the air of one that's rapidly becoming inebriated, doesn't realize it, and would hope no one else would, either. At this rate, one more drink would do her in.  
  
"Maybe you should have some more bread."  
  
That fucking bartender keeps LOOKING at me. Looking at me the way I want -him- to look at me.  
  
Why can't he look at me like that?  
  
Why won't someone look at me the way every woman wants to be looked at - like a treasured, charming, exotic creature, tantalizing and comforting in the same breath? Why can't I let these damned defenses I've built fall the way I'd like to fall into the arms of another?  
  
I need this, I can't lie to myself anymore.  
  
I need another drink, too.  
  
Shoving another basket of bread into her hands, the bartender eyes her knowingly, measuringly. It's either going to be a long night, or a short one ending in a jab with a knife.  
  
Though he kind of thought he wouldn't mind dying at her hands. At least he'd get to -feel- her hands...  
  
Definitely another drink.  
  
That's it.  
  
That's IT!  
  
This is it, I'm done, it's over. Forget this. Forget that damned Maria, forget that - what is it... P3? UP? Whatever the hell it is - forget whatever damnedable world he's from.  
  
He'll just take me with him, that's all.  
  
I give in, I give up. I'm in love with him.  
  
Dammit.  
  
She stared forlornly at the glasses in front of her, pouting slightly, not even knowing it. The decision made, the beautiful swordswoman began to rise - and then promptly realized that she wasn't actually going anywhere.  
  
Presented with this dilemma, she decided once more to charge out into the night, seeking her companion-to-be -  
  
Only to be faced with the bartender, jingling a key in front of her. "Trust me. Just take it."  
  
Grasping the key in one hand, she crossed her arms menacingly as she slowly rose -  
  
"And you can't come with me, no matter how much you want it!" she yelled over her shoulder as she stumbled up the stairs, much to the chagrin of the bartender -  
  
And the rest of the tavern as well.


End file.
